


Undisclosed Complications

by RyMagnatar



Series: EriDave same AU collection [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, i didn't expect one idea about showers to produce so much! O.o, only the matesprit relationships are listed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently, that three things have happened to you that you never really expected. One: You want someone besides Bro to come live with you in your shitty apartment. Two: You’ve been in a relationship with your boyfriend for over a year. Three: You still haven’t managed to get the pants off said boyfriend and you have tried everything you can think of. At this point you are considering going to John and asking him for pranking help because nothing. Else. Works.</p><p>You are Dave Strider and you are at the end of your rope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Legend of Eridan: Curse of the Puzzling Pants

You, Dave Strider, are on a mission. Not a mission for peace. Not a mission for spiritual conversion. Not a mission to end world hunger. Not even a mission to end your own hunger.

You are on a mission to fuck a troll.

You’ve realized, recently, that three things have happened to you that you never really expected. One: You want someone besides Bro to come live with you in your shitty apartment. Two: You’ve been in a relationship with your boyfriend for over a year. Three: You still haven’t managed to get the pants off said boyfriend and you have tried _everything_ you can think of. At this point you are considering going to John and asking him for pranking help because _nothing else works._

Rose, you know, would say that it is simply the continued denial of soft bare ass to squeeze, grey thighs to lick and troll dick to stroke that has you so maddeningly desperate for it. Or rather she would say it was the lack of contact that was driving you to desire more of it, as she was never one to get so vulgar.

There might be something to that because you have never been so frantic to fuck anyone as you are to pound into Eridan. Even _worse_ is the fact that you have had countless opportunities to screw someone else, and once or twice you might have actually done so, but all you could think about as you made them moan out your name was _I wonder if Eridan’s nook would feel like this? What kind of noises would he be making? Are his face fins as sensitive as hers? Would he let me grab his horns as I fucked him? Is he good at sucking or do his teeth get in the way? Would he cuddle afterwards or get up and shower first?_

It’s driving you _crazy_.

 _He’s_ driving you crazy.

So that’s why you’re on a mission. By the end of this week, you swear to yourself, you are going to figure out why he won’t let you fuck him, then you are going to take care of that and _then_ you will fuck him into your mattress.

There are no other options.

There is no way you could survive another week not knowing what he tastes, feels, moans like.

You’re on a mission and there is no room for failure.

…………..

He cancels on you that Monday because “ _somefin’ happened at wwork, Davve. I swwear, all these nerds can be such dumbfucks. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”_ and so you spend an hour pacing in your apartment, trying to figure your plan around this. But you were never as good as Bro, or as good as Rose, at planning these things out. More than once you look at your computer, weighing the benefits of consulting Rose, debating asking John about it, and even considering chatting up Jade.

You haven’t seen either of the girls in months, the last time was at that retarded but somehow enjoyable slumber party that John threw for the four of you the last time you were all in town, and you’ve all kind of grown up and gotten busy with, well, life. You had your two jobs, Rose had her writing and college, Jade had her science and John, well, John had moved down south for Karkat.

Trolls hated the snow more than anyone you’ve ever known and Karkat hated it worst of all. John was in town, you could and did see him frequently, but you didn’t bring up Eridan.

Karkat was always kind of lurking around when you went over to their place. You knew better than to bring up Eridan in his company. You already had to deal with the seatroll’s own shitty feels and swallowed lies; you didn’t want to have to deal with Karkles’s regurgitation of it all. So Eridan was, basically, your secret boyfriend. You didn’t care. You didn’t bring him up to the others to protect him.

If their relationships weren’t so damn fragile and if you didn’t hate having to deal with a stare-at-the-wall- _no-serioiusly-Davve-I’m-fine-I-really-mean-it_ Eridan, you would have ground all the shit they did into their face and shown them how fucking fine Eridan was now. He didn’t need them, he had you. He had a life. He had friends.

He had the nicest ass you ever laid hands on and all you wanted was for him to take off his pants and let you touch him goddammit!

You throw yourself down on the couch, sulkily drinking your apple juice and letting your frown show because it’s only you in this shitty apartment and you want to change that so badly you can’t help but scowl. You text Eridan that he owes you for ditching him, big time and he replies with a flippant “ _of course”._ You drop your phone off the edge of the couch in annoyance and then pick up your Xbox controller. Maybe killing a few dumbshits online will make you feel better.

When you get on, you’re surprised to see John online as well, you connect to him and, lounging perfectly on your couch, you tell him to lay it on you.

You like to listen to John, sometimes, just let him chatter into your ear about all sorts of shit as the two of you hunt out people and kill them. He laughs at something he said and you give him a wry chuckle and then there’s the sound of him saying goodbye- to Karkat you assume.

He’s quiet for a while and then he asks as nonchalantly as possible, in such a way that tells you he’s trying way too damn hard, “So, Dave, how are all the bitches fawning over you? Any of them sticking around?”

It takes you a moment before you realize he is actually asking you about your relationship status like he’s a polite little facebook question and you’re some fourteen year old girl who’s been spending too much time with a guy friend. “Maybe I got one that got stuck under my bed from last time,” you reply, “I haven’t really cleaned up the place recently so chicks don’t tend to linger.”

You smirk a little, thinking about how Eridan complains about your dirty apartment and when you tell him to either shut up or clean-up he actually _does_. He’ll go around and clean up either all the pizza boxes and soda cans or pile all your clothing up together or kick all the smuppets into Bro’s old room, but he never goes into a full cleaning mode. It’s gotten to the point that if he’s bored at your place or if you even stay too long in the damn bathroom to take a piss he’ll start picking things up. When you get back, he’ll look at you a little guiltily, maybe a little embarrassed, like he knows it’s okay if he cleans up a little bit, but if he does too much you’ll get after him. You wonder why he doesn’t just go to town like you know he wants to, but you’re kind of glad he doesn’t. A lot of this shit is Bro’s. He’s only been gone for a year or two, having made it back out of the game-like everyone else- only to get his shit taken out by a fucking 18wheeler.

Blinking, you realize you got into a mental fucking tangent about Eridan cleaning house, of all things, and have to go, “What was that? I was busy thinking about someone sexy.”

He sighs through your headset and explains, “I _said_ , if there aren’t any chicks around, maybe you’ve got a dude or something hanging around?”

“Or something? What exactly qualifies as an _or something_?”

“You know. A dude-lady.” You actually laugh at that and know he’s blushing as he says, “I mean a troll! They’ve got man parts and lady parts.”

“Oh do they now?” You tease, “even Karkles? Do you have fun with his dude-lady parts, John?”

He splutters and you think you hear him choking on a drink and roll your eyes. Only he would be drinking something while having such a conversation with you. Not thinking ahead there at all, Johnboy. “Well?” you add when he keeps coughing for a while without saying anything.

“Yeah. Maybe we do have some fun with that.” Then he pauses and giggles and you feel like shit is about to open up and pour down because he throws himself into one of his half-shy, half-teasing, half-giddy rants about Karkat. “I mean, you’ve done it with a troll before, right? Both sets of uh, equipment down there. And geeze-louise, Karkat can be so needy sometimes! I’m so glad his red stuff doesn’t stain because we would never be able to get the security deposit back on this place when we left! They would just have to recarpet and repaint and retile everything, you know?” And you know, you _know_ because you _have_ done trolls but instead of thinking of red or teal or blue all over your couch, your bed, your thighs, you want the royal fucking purple that should come out of him like it does when he bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed.

John just continues on, hardly even taking a breath, “I was thinking the other day, wondering why you don’t come around as much, and then I came home and he was practically naked just waiting for me with a damn flower in his mouth and he was trying so hard to do this scene from a romcom I almost choked to death laughing so hard. He got pissed but we still did it and _wow_ it’s just great, you know? Cause I trust him and he trusts me and he’s even begun saying love instead of pity these days though sometimes I say pity to him and he gives me this pretty little look like a soft kitten.” He stops, having a giggle fit and you’re gritting your teeth.

You want Eridan to do that. You want to do that for Eridan. Be ironic as fuck as he shows up, saying he’s _home_ as he comes through the door and all you’ve got on is your glasses or shit maybe one of his stupid hipster scarves or his silk little ties and, oh god you’re dying now, what if you came back in the fucking early morning hours from the club and he was making you damn _pancakes_ dressed in nothing but an apron in the kitchen holy _fuck-_ you want him so damn bad.

You groan, loudly, and mash your forehead on your controller, accidentally killing your dude but you could not give a fuck. You just got turned on thinking about _aprons_ of all damn things, and John’s laughing in your ear like a fuckass. “John, you dork, don’t tell me all that shit about Karkles. I don’t need to know about his shitty attempts at seducing you!”

“Not shitty if they work, Dave!” He laughs, “But seriously! Do you have someone or are you still DJ Stridenasty who brings any old clubber home?” His voice is light but there’s concern there you can hear it.

“I…Yeah.” Your voice is soft, softer than you would like it to be as you admit it, “Yeah I got someone. Drives me up the wall half the time but he’s adorable and kind of, well, amazing.” You admit it because, even though you want to protect him from the shit that makes him hate himself so damn much you want everyone to know he’s with you. You want someone to know. You want John to know. He’s your best bro and you want him to know!

There’s silence for a while and then John murmurs, “Go on~”

You sit with the controller still against your forehead, trying to put into words how fucking aggravating, how fucking perfect, how much you fucking care about Eridan and it is impossible. You, the master of words, are stumped. You let out a little sigh and mutter, “I think I might be in love.”

Silence for a good solid minute and then John goes, “Oh.”

Just that. Just Oh.

Like it’s some sort of crazy jacked up miracle, the word makes you smirk, that you actually feel something for someone other than lust. You give a weak little laugh and say, “I haven’t said that to him though and he hasn’t said anything like that to me either. But we’ve been together a while, you know?”

“And you want to, right? Wanna make it happen and have all your happy dreams come true and all that. Ride off into the sunset with him swooning at your magnificent Strider swag as he collapses against you and you-“

You cut John off with a snort, “Not a shitty romcom like that, John. Christ, you make him sound like a fair maiden princess locked in a tower. He’s not like that. Sure he can be bitchy and a bit of a neat freak but he’s got some swag when he works it and if anything he’ll drive us both off to some ironic little beach wedding where we jump over a broom for a religion neither of us can pronounce.”

“Wow,” John laughs, “Wedding talk? Are you listening to yourself, Dave? I think your feels are showing.”

“Fuck you, Egderp. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and haven’t really been able to talk to you about it before now.” You are finally getting back into the game, feeling more comfortable talking to him about this while you shoot heads off of shoulders.

“Uhhhh that sounds stupid. Why did you not talk about it before?”

“Because of Karkles.”

John laughs like that’s stupid and maybe on some level it is but shit, you have your reasons, don’t you? You wait out his giggles and he finally says, “Why? It’s not some troll from the game, right? Somebody Karkat knows?”

He waits for your answer but you can’t say it. You just kill things and ignore the way your ears burn as you blush darkly. After some time John sucks in a breath.

“Wait. It totally is someone from the game. Woah dude, who is it? Karkat’s pretty good about keeping track of everyone so if you’ve really been with this person for a while you two must have been keeping it on the down low.”

You roll your eyes, “Down low? Really. Did you really just say that John. Listen to that horrible phrase coming out of your mouth that is not even ironic. And, for what it’s worth, we haven’t brought it up because there are some residual issues from others in the game. And I guess pre-game too. It’s hard to tell. He can be an asshole a lot of the time but what people think about him really matters to him. I tell him it’s all bullshit but he just wibbles his stupid lips at me and then I have to make him shut up about it or he’ll start crying.” You can’t help the anger seep into your tone as you add on, while making a spectacular headshot, “They fucked him up, or maybe that’s just the way they’re raised and they’re all needy as fuck, but it’s kind of been hell getting him through it.”

The silence crackles with static for a while and then John, no laughter in his voice at all, says, “I think it’s a bit how they grow up. Karkat gets in to some pretty dark, self-loathing moods from time to time. I can usually get him out of it but he _hates_ himself so thoroughly it’s painful to watch. Other times he won’t let me out of his sight or he’ll come rushing into the room to make sure I’m okay, or not even let me leave at all. I try to be teasing about it, call him a cuddlebeast and purrbeast because it’s really just so damn cute, but honestly? Trolls are kind of fucked up emotionally.”

You laugh, totally agreeing with that sentiment. “Makes it easy to understand the whole pity thing better though. I know there’s nothing more pitiful than a sobbing Eridan in the middle of his shitty little apartment in the middle of the night.”

John giggles and then asks, “Eridan?”

And shit fuck fuck _shit_ you did _not_ mean to say that. Dammit. But John’s your best bro, right? He’ll keep it on the down lo- NO you are not about to use that phrase. Damn him for putting it in your head in the first place. “Don’t tell Karkat,” is all you say, “They hate him, John, and don’t bother telling me things are different because of time or shit because he knows it and I know it. They hate him and he doesn’t want to have to deal with it and neither do I.”

He’s all sad faces, you can hear it in his voice, as he says, “Yeah I won’t tell. Maybe I could meet him though? I never knew him all that well and they kinda avoid talking about him if they can help it.” You close your eyes in relief because John knows you so well sometimes, even though you two don’t talk every day like you used to.

“Yeah maybe. I’ll ask him. He’s never expressed any interest in meeting you or the others, but he can be dodgy about what he wants sometimes,” like why he won’t take off his pants for you. Oh hey. You can ask about that now. “So how easy was it to get Vantas to do the big nasty with you?”

John squeaks over the headset, which makes you smirk, and then, when he asks his voice cracks, “Why are you asking about that!?”

“Dude, you’ll tell me his pet names and how you two apparently do it all over your apartment, but you won’t tell me about your first time together?”

“That is not what you asked at all!”

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it. “I am rolling my eyes at you so hard, Egderp. Just answer my question. Was he shy about doing it or not?” You try not to feel on edge as you wait for your answer. You focus on shooting things. You focus on the way your fingers are clenched tight on the controller. You focus on the way you’ve moved to sit forward, elbows on your knees and frowning at the TV in front of you. You take a moment to readjust your slouch and relax yourself while John fights himself on telling you.

“Well yes, but no? He’d never really, you know, done it before with anyone? And neither had I so we kind of took it slow and it was actually pretty nice but-“

“John, I hate to be rude here but I’m actually asking about how hard it was for you to get his pants literally off his body.”

John gives a surprised laugh and then says, “Easy! Things got pretty heavy one time and when I suggested we do more he was out of those pants so fast I think he might have given himself a friction burn!” He giggles again, “It was afterwards that the adrenaline started wearing off and he got all nervous, it was sooooooo cute.”

You snort and frown. In fact you grimace. So not a troll thing, unless Karkat was just a mutant in that way too. But you get the feeling he wasn’t, really, because you’ve been with a few trolls- admittedly they were from the club and so probably sluts- and they were never shy, but then Eridan did that whole bed-hopping phase? Fuck, you are never going to completely understand him, are you?

“Why?” John was asking for the hundredth time in this conversation. “Is Eridan holding out on you?”

“Okay, first thing’s first we’re giving him a code name to talk about him in front of Karkat and whomever else and secondly yes, yes he is. He is holding out so hard it’s like he’s the Virgin Queen and I have to jump through every hoop and over every wall to get into his pants but he hasn’t even shown me where the quests are at so I’m just floundering around in the English Channel hoping that if I keep going in one direction maybe I’ll reach England or France or _somewhere_.”

“Hehe, wow. From all I heard and from all your talk I didn’t think he would do that to you! And what should his nickname be? It should have to do with water! Like, fishie or something!” John’s character ran across your screen and you popped a shot off in his ass just because.

“Fuck no, not fishie. We’re calling him Bubbles because he would hate it and it fits him perfectly.” John laughs in your ear and you twitch a smirk. “And he does. He won’t take off his fucking pants. _And_ he won’t let me take off mine! It’s like he’s scared shitless about something and he won’t tell me what. He’s such a tightass.”

“Well you wouldn’t know,” John teased and you growled and he just laughed some more. “How long have you been with Bubbles?” And you were right that totally fits him because the first thing you think of with someone by that name is that time you were on the roof and Eridan came up and you were trying to sulk and he produced a bubble bottle and blew them into the sky until you lost the anger and demanded a turn. He had been a bitch and wouldn’t let you have a turn until you tackled him and kissed him breathless and then he grinned up at you and pulled out a second, bright fucking red, bottle and kissed your nose.

“A year.”

John, by the sound of it, was doing a pretty good impression of choking on his tongue. You waited for him to finish, threw in a casual, “You okay, bro?” and chuckled when he spluttered that he was.

“A _year_? How have you gone a year without tearing his pants off him already! How have you gone a year without tearing _anyone’s_ pants off!” That’s the thing about John. He knows you pretty damn well. When you were trying college and work at the same time you didn’t have time for a real relationship. Instead you bounced people in and out of your bed whenever you needed the relief. So you were a bit of a manwhore, John didn’t hold it against you and you didn’t either.

“To be honest, I haven’t been one hundred percent celibate.” You admit, sort of unwillingly. But as soon as you say it, there’s a little lift of a burden in your chest. You’ve had a feeling Eridan knew, like he could smell them on you even if it was three days before you saw him again, but you never said and he never asked. He did talk about you sticking your tongue down people’s throats like it wasn’t any big deal but the way he talked about it really, _really_ bothered you.

“Oh _Dave_ ,” John says in that sorrowful town like he’s disappointed in you, sort of upset with you and sympathizes with you. You think he picked that up from his dad, because you never heard that from Bro, but then Bro just didn’t treat you like that.

It makes you feel guilty and kind of dirty and squirm in your seat as you say, probably sharper than you intend, “Well it just kind of happened! And being with him can get so damn frustrating! A couple of times I just needed to blow off steam so I went home with a few people. I haven’t done it in a while! I just, fuck, I just want him but I can’t have him and there’s a secret puzzle locked in his pants but I’m no fucking Link, okay. I can’t figure this shit out all the time.”

“Uh, actually you are the closest to Link out of all us, Mr. Knight of Time.” You hear John titter, literally _titter_ , on the other end of the headset. You have to smirk because, hey, he’s right. You’re the Knight of time. Link’s the Hero of Time. Maybe you can figure out this puzzle bullshit.

“Look, John, all I know is that I’m getting kind of desperate and I’m going to have to figure out the combination to his pants in a hurry or I’m going to go off the deep end.”

John takes in a breath to reply but it comes out in a surprised yelp that makes you wince. “Karkat!”

You didn’t hear the door open but you do hear the whooshing exhale of John’s breath and the growling of his troll boyfriend. You sigh heavily. Damn Karkles. Interrupting your bro time.

There is some muffled sounds, and then the sound of someone grabbing the mic. After a moment Karkat’s voice comes gruffly over the line, “Hey Strider. I’m stealing my boyfriend back so fuck off with your issues or –John stop that is not- what are you- hey!”

John’s voice is fuzzy on the line, bursting with laughter as he says, “Hey Dave, gotta go! We’ll talk about Bubble’s Puzzle Pants later, okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” You reply.

Just before the line cuts off you hear Karkat growling, asking about Bubble who and what puzzle pants. You laugh and pull off the headset. You turn off your game and the TV and just sit for a while, thinking about it. Maybe John meeting with Eridan would be a good idea.

Maybe, just maybe, being a Knight of Time meant you could figure out fucking shitty puzzles in real life and not just in a video game. You find your abandoned half a bottle of apple juice and open it. You finish it off quickly and then decide to go take a shower to help yourself think.

Among other things, of course.

You still, after all that chatter, have a pretty good image of Eridan in an apron in your head and it has apparently taken up residency there. You don’t mind one fucking bit.


	2. Communication

Whatever it was that the nerds fucked up on, they must have fucked up big. You got a couple more texts from Eridan saying he wouldn’t be able to do anything with you until Wednesday the earliest. There was a short phone call that he spent whining about their stupidity and how it is costing him sleep time. You asked how much and he said he’d caught a handful of hours in one of the cots at work but he hadn’t left since Monday.

You told him that you could wait until Wednesday to see him and he laughed and said you made it sound like you would die without him. The two of you joked back and forth until his break was over and finally agreed that he would come over around midday on Wednesday, or as soon as he could get out of that, and you quote, “Hellish nightmare house of tentacle chords and softly panting geeks lit up like ghosts by their blue and green monitors.” You laugh and think to yourself that your use of metaphors is rubbing off on him.

His grin is audible as he says goodbye to you and you say you’ll catch him later.

Wednesday rolls around and you get up a little earlier than usual. There is a coil of anxiety in your gut that makes it hard to eat anything other than a bit of toast and coffee. You have restless energy that you use up by going to the roof and practicing for a while. That gets old fast, though, when you only have yourself to fight. So you eventually come back down to your apartment and go to your sound closet.

Head bowed over your tables and headphones on your ears, you close your eyes and lose yourself in the music. The next thing you know, there’s a faint sound of a bell and you look up to see a flashing light on the wall. You had that installed a few months back once Eridan kept dropping by randomly and getting pissed off that you wouldn’t answer.

Pausing everything, you slipped out and went to the door. As soon as you opened it, Eridan was on you, draping his arms over your shoulders and burrowing his face against your neck and bemoaning his exhaustion. You rolled your eyes at your drama queen and kicked the door shut. You half dragged, half led his sorry ass to the couch and sat down on it.

He climbed into your lap, a comfortable, familiar weight upon your legs, and began littering you with kisses on your neck and face. You kiss back when you can but mostly you run your fingers up and down his back and have to content yourself with just holding him close.

After a while he settles, making that weird clicky purring noise deep in his chest and curled up against your chest. “God,” he mutters, “I’m so damn tired.”

You run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Under your cool kid tutelage, you’ve gotten him to stop using so much product his hair is stiff. Now it’s this soft (for a troll anyway) moveable stuff you love to put your hands in. “I know I’m comfortable as fuck, Eribubbles, but I’m not a bed.”

He pinches your hip for calling him that but you just chuckle. He licks up your neck and nibbles on your ear, “Carry me to the bed then, asshole.”

“Oh babe you know just how to sweet talk me,” You smirk. Sliding your hands down to his ass, you give him a good squeeze that just makes him purr louder. Hands behind his thighs, you pick him up and stand. He maybe a little taller than you but he was nearly as thin as you were. Too many days of not enough sleep and not enough food had done that to him, just like it had to you.

He wraps his arms and legs around you and is burrowed against you as you take him to your bed.

He’s slept over a few times, but never in anything less than pants. The first time he stayed over and actually slept at your house instead of for a movie or video game marathon was the night you discovered what it was like to share the bed with a clingy as fuck troll. By the end of the night he was your blanket and somehow your pillow too. He’d been better about it recently, like his subconscious finally got that you weren’t going to run off on him in the middle of the night.

You set him on the bed now, untangling his body from yours. He flops back, careful of his horns, and looks up at you with his sleepy, half open eyes, small adorable smile look. Your heart does a strange lurch in your chest and you reach down to scratch behind of his earfins. His purring gets louder and his eyes close.

Peeling off his shoes becomes your next deal, tugging them off and his socks and tossing them aside. Then you pull him out of his shirt because, though he mutters now about you being annoying, him waking up from sleeping with a shirt on is five times more annoying. All that is left are his pants.

Those magic miracle puzzle pants.

You stroke his stomach, feeling his faint humming vibration in your fingers, and wait for him to fall deeper into sleep. You know a lot of trolls sleep nude, especially in their slime pods, so you have an excuse for when he wakes up without pants. You just want him to be comfortable after all.

Minutes pass as you push your patience to its limits. Then you slide fingers down, slowly, and trail fingertips over his scar. The skin there is tighter, smoother, and lighter. You probably wouldn’t believe his story about being sawed in half if it wasn’t for this scar. It just seemed a little too crazy.

Then fingers find the button on his pants and you flick them open. You glance to his face, but nothing.

Next is the zipper. That’s when your face heats up because all you can see from the parting in his pants is more grey skin. Has he been commando this whole damn time? Really? You were one flimsy layer of cloth between your hands and his sweet ass?

You hook your fingers into the belt loops and tug down, slowly. You’ve just revealed his hipbones, the curving line from those to his groin and are about to get them down farther when his hand lays on top of yours. You jerk your head up and his violet eyes are staring at your face. That’s when you notice his breath has gotten faster, shorter, just as clipped as yours is. “Davve,” his fingers tighten around your hand, “Wwhat exactly do you think you’re doin’.”

Your excuse runs the fuck away from you as you clench your teeth. You hate having to hide this desire from him, having to pretend like it doesn’t bother you, and those feeling bubble up inside of you- against your will- so strongly that you can’t stop yourself. “Why won’t you let me see the rest of you? Dammit, Eridan, I want to see all of you, touch all of you. I want more than hot makeouts and eager groping. I will drop my pants for you in a second all I’m waiting for is you!”

He uses his stupid alien strength to pry your fingers off his pants and then yanks them back up. He closes his pants, not saying anything but you can see the hurt in his tense shoulders and dark eyes. When he moves to get out of the bed, you grab his arm. He looks at you and snaps, “I wwas thinkin’ that wwhat you and I had wwas a bit more than somethin’ physical, Davve.”

You dig your fingers into his arm and you pull him closer, back against you. “It is! But I want it to include that physical part too. Don’t you want us to get past make outs and onto something that means more?”

He rips his arm from your grasp and gets to his feet. “That’s the point exactly! I wwant it to mean more! If wwe just fall into bed on a wwhim wwhenevver wwe feel like it, howw is it going to mean somethin’ fuckin’ amazin’?”

You want to facepalm, or smack him or maybe just grab a handful of your hair and groan because he’s being an obtuse dumbfuck and you’re getting sick of it. You don’t do any of those things, though. You just take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It won’t just be falling into bed together. Of course it’ll mean more! Do you want some sort of romantic dinner or something first? What do you need, Eridan, for it to meet your requirements?”

He blinks at you, probably a little surprised your voice actually grew in volume. You’re just so aggravated by this, though, that you can’t help but crack your indifference. Being more intimate with him means a lot to you and you’ve been waiting a while to figure things out.

He crosses his arms over his chest defensively and looks away. When he’s silent for longer than to be thoughtful, you get up and put your hands on his shoulders, “C’mon babe, tell me what I gotta do so you think I’m serious about this. I’m flying blind here! I’ve done everything I can think of and none of that has worked.” Your voice has softened again, trying to coax and not demand.

Eridan shoves away, bending over to get his shirt. Your stomach does a painful drop as your heart clenches in your chest. “Babe,” you start again, “what is it?”

Dragging his shirt back over his head, he still doesn’t look at you. You can see, however, him rapidly blinking and the flush on his cheeks. That, combined with his furious frown and soft hitches in breath tells you more than you want to know. You’ve made him cry with your pushing.

Anger and guilt war inside of you, fighting for the right to express themselves. How dare he just leave, not answer you, not acknowledge that you’re trying here! How dare _you_ push and push him when he’s clearly unwanting-

Eyes widen as you feel that thought coil in your head, drop like a leaden brick in your gut, and then bubble out of your mouth, “Do you just not want me?”

He freezes, jerking to a stop with one shoe on, and then looks up at you with eyes you feel mirror yours in size. Oh fuck those _are_ tears building there in the corners. “Wwhy wwould you think-“ he stops himself from finishing that because even he could to see why you think that. He shakes his head and looks down, “No Davve. This is all me. I’m sorry. I shoulda slept before I came ovver.”

Shoving on his left and final shoe, he gives you a sad little smile and trudges from the room.

You lock your knees so you don’t fall down onto your bed. The next sound is the door to your apartment shutting and locking because Eridan always locks up when he leaves. He’s wary, protective of his privacy, of his life, of the places he feels safe. You love that about him; how he is so careful, even though years of mistrust and pain made him that way.

An idea forms in your head. Love. _Love._ You haven’t said that to him. You haven’t tried that. You’ve been thinking about it, but couldn’t settle on an idea that was both ironic for you and sincere. But desperate times called for desperate measures and all you knew is that you couldn’t let him walk away without trying. You’d be able to think of something once you caught up to him.

You flashstep to the door, unlock it, throw it open. You’re in the hallway and about to race to the steps when you hear a sniffling and music.

Eridan didn’t even leave the hall. He’s curled up, sitting beside your apartment, with his knees to his chest and his face pressed against them glasses out of the way on the floor. He had his phone held in his hand and it was playing music softly. You sigh despite yourself, rolling your eyes because he’s so dramatic, sulking with his little sad songs. It was insufferably cute like this. You step over, crouch down and take the phone from his loose grip. “Christina Perri, really? _Really_ Eridan? Here, let me fix that.” You flip through his play list and try to find the absolute perfect song. Fortunately for you, Eridan’s eclectic tastes in music meant you had the perfect love song to use on him.

You press play and put the phone on his head. He holds still, sniffling softly, listening to the intro. Just before the words start, you decide to do this the whole fucking way and start singing along. “You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car. You’re the line in the sand when I go too far. You’re the swimming pool, on an August day, and you’re the perfect thing to say.”

Eridan’s sniffling stops. His hand blindly reaches out to you and you grip it tightly. He squeezes it back just as tight. But he hasn’t looked up so you continue singing, “And you play it coy, but it’s kinda cute. Ah, when you smile at me you know exactly what you do. Baby don’t pretend, that you don’t know its true. Cause you can see it when I look at you.”

He giggles, definitely not crying now. And he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _shut up, God you’re so embarrassin!_ But fuck that you’re on a roll!

You belt out the chorus, picking up volume and when you come to the end, “And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times, it’s you, it’s you, you make me sing. Your every line, your every word, your everything.” He shifts his head just enough to peek an eye at you. You catch the phone before it falls to the ground and keep on singing.

“You’re a carousel,” He rolls his eye at you, “you’re a wishing well and you light me up when you ring my bell.” Another giggle. He lifts his head just a little. It’s like coaxing a turtle from its shell. “You’re a mystery, you’re from outer space,” He actually laughs, “you’re every minute of my every day.”

The blush starts, then, and his chin is propped on his knees as you sing. Your heart starts pounding in your chest as you get closer to that one little word. “And I can’t believe that I’m your man, and I get to kiss you baby just because I can. Whatever comes our way, oh, we’ll see it through, and you know that’s what our love can do!”

His mouth drops open and you stop singing, letting Buble finish out the song on his own. You squeeze Eridan’s hand and reach up to your glasses. Lowering them just enough to look at him, meet his gaze over the black rims, you lean in and whisper, “Love you, babe,” before pressing a soft kiss to his cool lips.

He gives a little sob and pulls you against him, sliding his knees down and dragging you closer. You planned a quick peck on the lips but holy fuck he’s sucking on your tongue and biting your lips and moaning. He kisses you until he’s sucked all the breath out of you and your mind is dizzily swirling. You have to push yourself back, gasping for air and feeling the prickling taste of copper on your lips from when he was a little too enthusiastic. “Look, I’m sorry about the pants thing,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with your thumb, “How can I make it up to you?”

Eridan doesn’t even hesitate, “Movvie theater make outs.”

You laugh but nod. He’s actually pretty eager to publicly kiss you. He’s very into PDA, your dramatic little fist troll. Most times its holding hands or quick kisses, but he always is a little closer, a little more attentive when others are around. “Can I pick the film?”

“Sure whatever, not like we’re even going to watch it.” He rolls his eyes and you smirk. Glasses back in place, you stand up. He scoops up his phone, his glasses, and stands with you. Grey fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt and he whispers, “Can I take a bit of a nap before we do much more, Davve?”

You peck his lips and shrug. “Sure whatever. I got some songs I wanted to finish mixing.” He flicks a smile at you and then runs his hand down your shirt to smooth out the wrinkles he made by gripping it. He walks first back into your apartment and you watch his ass as you follow him in.

There are layers to the puzzle pants, as there are layers to a lot of shit he does, but you’re pretty sure you just pushed past the first one. You don’t even care that he didn’t say he loved you back. You don’t need to hear it. You can see it in his face when he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm and his lips in a little smile. You were always good at reading body language. You had to be to live with Bro.

As you close and lock the front door, you silently thank your Bro for teaching you to be able to recognize wordless love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Everything" by Micheal Buble if you didn't catch it on your own :3


	3. Dave: Be the Hero. Get the Triforce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW WITH AN ILLUSTRATION. oh gosh.

 

Mister Tight Pants decides that you will take him to the movie on Saturday. You don’t really care when you go as long as it’s with him, so you agree. The two of you spend the rest of the week alternately bitching about work (mostly him) to going to work (both of you) or lounging around at your apartment (last time that you both hung out at his place you went so stir-crazy at the sheer _emptiness_ of his home that now his fridge doesn’t work and there might be a hole or three in the wall).

After you tried to pull his pants off while he was sleeping, you decide to back burner the idea of getting into them. It might be a goal to do the horizontal tango with your troll boyfriend, but if rushing him into it made it so you didn’t have a troll boyfriend at all afterwards, well, you could wait a little longer.

He’s a little extra clingy those next few days and once or twice you catch him having a muffled conversation in the other room on the phone but you don’t push. Eridan is actually pretty good at surprising you with things, like that sword for your birthday (a fucking amazing katana- slices through _anything_ like butter and made out of space metal) and the weird shit he sometimes makes in the kitchen (“Trust me Davve you’ll fuckin love it I _promise_ ” and you do, you always do). So you trust him for surprising you with things.

In a strange way you find it soothing that his surprises are so successful in pleasing you. Unlike Bro’s, which more often than not ended up in a new bruise, or John’s that were almost always prank related, Eridan’s surprises were mostly gifts or favors. There was always that face he gave, a half second after revealing the surprise as he waits for your response. Hopeful, anxious, eager, with bright eyes and a captured breath; it’s a look you don’t see for very long, one of those fleeting things he hides behind a smug smile and narrowed eyes.

His narrowed little violet eyes which hold a whole world of emotions behind them; you love them and you want to keep them for yourself. He knows how to hide a smile, how to lift his chin and sneer in derision and how to look as though nothing ever touches him but his eyes.

Well. There’s a reason you still cover your eyes even though coolkid is an old high-school title you’ve outgrown. Sometimes you toy with the idea of getting him his own sunglasses, but it’s a fleeting, possessive thought.

Saturday eventually rolls around and Eridan, true to his nature, sends you a picture text with a shot of what he’s wearing. He likes it when you coordinate. You like it when he wears those ridiculous tight, dark violet pants. If they were grey you could mistake them for a second layer of skin they’re so damn tight. You can imagine him peeling back the soft, pliable cloth, lifting up his shirt with an arm while he shows a bit more grey, inch by inch, looking at you with those warm, molten iridescent eyes and licking his lips –

Okay.

So maybe the pants mission wasn’t so back burner after all.

You throw on some clean clothes, nothing that will clash with his pretty violet obsession, and drag a comb through your hair. For some reason there is this strange pooling in your stomach, a nervousness without any readily identifiable source. You are not comfortable with this. If you are going to feel nervous, you want to know why so you can kick it in the face. Or alternatively ignore the fuck out of it.

You swing by his place and he’s waiting at the bottom of his apartment building with his hands in his pockets and one of those stupid circle scarves around his neck. He brightens the moment he sees your truck pull up and before you even stop he’s heading over. You roll down the window and he leans in to pop a kiss against your lips with a smile. “Hey babe,” you say in greeting. “Ready to go watch a slasher flick with me?”

“Oh God, is that what we’re gonna go see?” He makes a face but you see the glimmer in his eyes. It’s a bit of a social taboo for trolls to present themselves as extremely violent, but that doesn’t stop them from loving it. You arch an eyebrow and he grins.

He hurries around to the other side of your truck and climbs inside. You roll the window back up as he slides right to the middle and slides the single seatbelt strap across his hips. His glorious, purple covered hips. You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you look down at those purple pants from the corner of your eye. This isn’t natural, you think to yourself, your loathing for pants is bordering on obsessive.

“So what film is it anyway?” Oblivious Eridan says and you glance up to see him looking at you curiously. “Human or Alternian?”

“It’s one of those weird hybrids with two titles,” You reply. You dig out the tickets from your pocket. You got them online and printed them off before you left home.

Eridan takes the paper and reads off the titles, “Colors of the Wind, or alternatively mmfgh” He shoots you a cross look as you cover his mouth with one hand.

“Yeah just because it has that other title doesn’t mean I want to hear it. Totally ruins the movie, dude.” You pull your hand back and make a quick right turn as you do. He grumbles.

“Not like you’re going to even be watchin’ the movie anyway why do you care?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s pouting. Once you’re headed straight down the road again, you slink your arm around his shoulders and pull him snug up against your side.

“Don’t spoil the ending,” you turn to press your lips to his cheek, keeping one eye on the road, “You know I like surprises.”

He goes a strange sort of still and quiet and you’re about to ask something about it when his hand reaches up and touches yours on his shoulder. He leans into you like something heavy just settled on him and his claws prickle your skin as they dig in slightly. They’re growing out. He had been trimming them because of someone in the past. Remembering how he had looked off distantly while tapping his fingertips on your arm as he told you about it gives you goosebumps. There are times that he looks so utterly alien, beautiful and broken, that it weirds you out just a little.  

Maybe all trolls are kind of like that, some mixture of almost human and almost creature that can inspire a strange twisting sensation in your gut and a cold shiver down your spine that isn’t quite desire and isn’t quite repulsion. Or maybe that’s just him. You lean your head down slightly and his horn is cool and smooth against your cheek.

“You don’t really like surprises.” He murmurs softly. You rub your fingers over his shoulder, your hand still trapped under his. “Too unexpected.”

“Correction,” you move your finger enough to slide your fingers between his, “I don’t like any surprises except for yours.”

That must be another right thing to say because he wriggles his body slightly, shifting so he can kiss along your jaw and neck. You laugh and tell him to wait a damn moment we’re not even in the theater yet, and steer the truck one handed into a parking space. He reluctantly pulls away, not before he bites your ear to make you shudder, and gets out of the truck.

The two of you walk towards the theater in the bright sunlight. His arm is cool as it coils along your arm and his fingers slide into place with yours. The line is pretty fucking long, which is why you get your tickets online for the weekends. You spend enough time outside in the Houston sun, you don’t need any more of it.

Eridan digs out the tickets and hands them to the checker dude while you follow silently and impassive. You follow along a stream of other movie goers until you reach your doors. As you step inside, Eridan’s fingers briefly squeeze yours. On top of your shades, the dim light makes it harder to see him or the seats, but he just trots along, leading you up to the top seats and tugging you after him eagerly.

He slides into one of the movie chairs and you drop down beside him. Up goes the arm of the chairs between you and you’re only a little surprised when he slides a hand down your side and starts trying to pull you close. Cool lips press a kiss against yours and you mumble, “Eager much? The trailers haven’t even started, buddy.”

This close to him the dim lighting does nothing to hide the look of semi-desperation in his face. His hand gently touches your cheek, his thumb sliding over your cheekbone and down beside your lips. You reach up and push your glasses up. This make out session was a make up for trying to strip him while he slept, you remember that clear as day, but you had no idea that he was this …this upset? Concerned? Desperate? Angry? You can’t tell.

He responds to you revealing your eyes by attacking your mouth and sliding his hand around to the small of your back and tangling his fingers in your shirt. You meet his intensity with your own. As the two of you kiss, leaning into each other and nearly oblivious to the world, the lights finally dim and the trailers start.

It’s only then that he pulls back, running his tongue over his lips, swiping up the red of your blood and grinning. You’re flushed, warm from cheeks to knees and it’s all for him. He tugs on your shirt and you get the picture. Pushing back on his chest, you make him sit back on the seat and slide over onto his lap. Straddling his hips with your knees you slide your arms around his neck and begin to kiss him all over again.

He has one hand in your hair, fingers curled in your short blond locks and nails scratching at your scalp. His other hand is right at the base of your spine, half curled around your ass and pulling you closer. Chest to chest the two of you kiss, your mouths muffling your sounds and mostly remembering you’re in a theater.

When he pulls his mouth away from yours and begins sucking and biting at your neck, you cast a glance over your shoulder. The movie had begun at last, some slasher flick where these kids and trolls were out camping together. No blood quite yet of course, but it was only a matter of time. One scan down into the audience shows you that you and Eridan are not the only troll-human couple there. You smirk and turn back to your own eager fishtroll. Of course you’re not the only one to indulge in the violence-adrenaline-lust mentality of the trolls. You doubted half of the couples in this room would leave without knowing what half of the movie was about.

Eridan bites your shoulder, a scratching of teeth that draws your blood and your thoughts crashing back to him. Your head whips back around and he’s looking up at you and there is no mistake that there is something desperate and needy in his eyes. He’s never been this insistent.

If you weren’t too busy trying to get his tongue down your throat in the next moment, you might have begun to worry _why_.

But make out you is busy so you can’t spend one more moment thinking about it other than to scramble up some sort of way to try and soothe him or maybe make him more desperate (at this point it doesn’t matter to you which happens). In the next gasp between kisses, you pause long enough to do that tender fucking gaze thing that you see on stupid movies and shows and you whisper, “Eridan, I fucking love you.”

He gives you this pathetic little whine and pulls you into a kiss that lasts so long you begin to see spots behind your eyelids and you become lightheaded. You push against his chest and gulp down a deep lungful of air. His mouth never stops. He is absolutely relentless. What makes it worse are his hands, now both on your hips, on your ass and pulling, pushing, grabbing at you.

You lean back your head as he sucks yet another mark onto your neck and you wonder how the fuck you are going to make it through the damn movie.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the theater bathroom you get a good look at yourself. You look like a fucking battlefield, bitten and red across your neck and exposed collarbone. Your lips are torn and bleeding sluggishly. Eridan looks a little better than you do, though about half way through the film he started making that pathetic keening noise while actually watching the damn film.

Or maybe he was doing that because you had your tongue in his gills. Heh.

You swipe your fingers through your hair and head out of the bathroom to wait for him while he finishes whatever the fuck takes him so damn long to piss and then clean up.

Idly looking at the movie posters in the hallway, hands in your pockets, you almost miss it when a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Hey!”

A turn and in a moment you have an armful of John draped around your shoulders in a bro-hug and then he’s looking up at you with wide eyes. “Holy hell, Dave what happened to your face?”

How can you not smirk to that? “Bubbles,” you reply.

“Oh.” His shock turns into that mischievous prankster- _I-know-something-you-don’t!_ look that you alternately hate and find pretty fucking hilarious as long as you’re not the one he’s directing it to you. In this case, you have half a feeling that he is a gloating smiles towards you, but you pretend it’s for others.

Others, in this case, being Sollux, Gamzee and Feferi. John sees your gaze over his shoulder at them and he says, “Karkat and Tavros are in the bathroom still, that’s who we’re waiting for before we go out to eat.”

You wait for the  invitation to join him out to eat but it never comes, instead he is pulling you over to the group of other trolls, smiling broadly to them. Sollux arches an eyebrow, smirking at you as he sees how bitten up your face is. Feferi comes bouncing over to you with big magenta eyes all wide as she gasps, “Oh my glubbing goodness! Dave you look like somefin was trying to eat you!”

“Yup, pretty much.”

She laughs and then looks up as Gamzee wraps an arm around her shoulders. She gives a little glub as he pulls her back against his side. He stares you down, indigo eyes dark and lips pulled back in a smirk. You’ve heard he’s black as coal for you, because of the game, and sometimes you consider getting in on that action. Arching your eyebrow at him and then turn your attention back to John. “What did you all go and see?”

“There was this pale-flushed romcom that Karkat would not stop talking about so we decided to do a sort of triple double pale double flushed date to go see it! You know to get into the romantic spirit of things!”  John said, gesturing wildly as he did.

You give him a mock hurt expression and put your hand over your chest, “And as your best pale bro you just left me out in the cold? You’re heartless!”

“You don’t look like you were mithing anything by not coming, Dave,” Sollux smirks at you. “And bethideth, FF’th moirail couldn’t make it either tho we figured it would be fine jutht the thix of uth.”

You shrug a little, trying not to grin yourself silly and totally succeeding in keeping your cool. “So Jade’s busy too? What’s she got going on?”

“She said she had a thing to go to,” Feferi says from under Gamzee’s arm. She’s leaning her head against his chest, patting his hand with one of hers. She wears three rings on her hand, the different stones and gold flashing in the light. You wonder if Eridan started wearing less rings in order to seem less like her.

For a brief moment you consider grabbing her hand and ripping them off her fingers one by one on the ground in the way Eridan blandly described Sollux had done to him while they were kismesis. You wonder if she knows how he did that to Eridan while he held him down with his psionics, laughing because he would never get to Feferi no matter what he did.

There has to be more to that story than Eridan told you because he went weirdly quiet and stared at the wall for a good half hour afterwards while you stroked his hair and waited for him to get back from inside his head. You’re still debating whether or not to ask more about that or about how he flinches when you kiss his rings.

“-ave? Dude what’s up?”

You jerk back into your thoughts from a hand on your arm. John is looking at you in concern. You realize you’re shaking with your hands as fists at your sides. Taking a step back you turn away, “Nothing.” You can’t look at her or Sollux now.

There’s a breath of silence, like John hesitating before he asks you something and the others are just watching you like they’re not quite sure what to do at that moment. You can feel it in the air like _something_ happened and they aren’t quite clued in.

The first one who speaks is Sollux, his voice dripping with disgust, “Fuck, not _him_.”

Your gaze first flicks up to Sollux and then you turn to follow his gaze beyond you and John.  There stands Eridan, scarf covering his throat from your love bites and in those sexy, skin tight purple pants.

But his shoulders.

Oh _God_ his _shoulders_.

They’re slumped down, rounded just like the dullness in his eyes. His fingers curl at his sides, like he wants to twist them into the hem of his shirt. He’s not looking at you, even though his eyes are on you. He’s looking right through you, right through everything. You’re rooted to the ground, frozen as you stare at him, unable to see anything except him.

Then a bony shoulder is pushing past you, uprooting you from your dumbfounded staring and bumping you into John. That seems to wake your friend as well who digs his hand into your arm. Distantly you hear Sollux’s lisp saying, “I’ll take care of him.”

Your heart twists painfully in your chest as you see the back of Sollux’s head, his bony shoulders, squared and his hands fists. For a brief, fantastic moment you imagine yourself lunging at his back and tearing the confidence that he stole from Eridan like it was a tangible thing. Like there were bones in his back, or skin or flesh or veins coursing inside of him that you could tear out and give to your Eridan.

John snaps you out of it, again. The fuck are all these thoughts even coming from? You couldn’t tear apart a troll with your bare hands and Gamzee wouldn’t even let you within touching distance of Feferi if he saw you reaching for her in anger. John shakes you by the arms and he looks right at you and hisses, “Dave, you are the hero of time, you are Link. And do you know what he does? Link wears the Triforce of courage on his hand proudly. He doesn’t hide it away in his temple of time for no one to see- _Link isn’t ashamed of his Triforce, Dave._ ”

Everything slides into place. You pull away from John and flashstep so fast you swear you feel a delay in the world around you, like you stepped through time the way you used to be able to do. You come to a stop between Sollux and Eridan, arms folded across your chest. “Sup.”

“DV what the hell are you doing?” Sollux growled at you.

You arch an eyebrow and say right back, “I don’t know. Probably defending my boyfriend against his ex.”

A pause. A heartbeat of silence. His voice is deadpan, “What.”

You turn, put your arm around Eridan’s shoulders and pull him up to your side. He’s tenses, like a cold grey rock in purple pants pressed up against you. Gesturing to his chest with your other hand you say, “Captor, meet my unbelievably sexy boyfriend, Eridan Ampora. Eridan, sweetheart, meet my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. Oh you two know each other? Hatefuck buddy exes? Oh goodness-fucking-me.” You turn to Eridan and press a kiss to his cheek, “One second lovely.”

You slide your arm from around his shoulders and take the three steps over to Sollux. You grab a fistful of his stupid video game T-shirt and you lift him up off his feet and _snarl_ into his face, “If you dare put one single fucking finger or psionic little tendril on his body I will rip off all four of your pointy little fucking horns and shove them right the fuck down your throat, you little asshole. Do you fucking understand me?” Maybe your voice rose a little bit and maybe by the end of that you’re shouting, but the wide, shocked eyes that look back at you are fucking worth it.

What’s even more worth it is the cool hand pressed against your back, supportive and solid. When Sollux decides silence is enough, you decide it isn’t and you shake him. Your voice is low again as you ask, “Do you under-fucking-stand me?”

“Yeth! Yeth I get it okay? Holy fuck, let me go!” Sollux pushes at your hands and you let him go. He stumbles backwards and you quickly become aware of everything else around you. Gamzee is being held back by Feferi, both of them staring at you. John is biting his lip with his hands raised to his chest like he’s torn between applauding and getting involved.

You give a little smirk to Sollux and lean back into Eridan’s touch. Which suddenly became two hands.

Two moving hands.

That are now on your ass.

You glance over your shoulder and the face you’re looking into is almost foreign with the heat in those violet eyes. He leans in and licks the shell of your ear and growls, “Davvey, I havve somethin’ I think you’vve been dyin’ to see.” You love the way he’s using his full accent, laying it on thick as he gropes your ass.

Turning to talk to Eridan, your eyes sweep over and catch sight of Karkat standing beside much taller Tavros. Tavros has big brown teary eyes like you just played the leading role in one of Karkat’s romcoms and not threaten the life of a friend. Karkat is scowling, but _he_ claps, three times. “Fin-fucking-nally.”

Your monotone is great for a guy with a pair of hands on your ass and Eridan’s best _fuck-me-now_ face burning a hole in the side of your face. “Finally what?”

Karkat takes a step forward but Eridan growls and says low under his breath, “Kar, I’ll explain evvery fuckin’ thing to him myself. Wwe are goin’ right noww so fuckin’ see all you fuckers later.” Eridan slides his hands into your back pocket and starts pulling you backwards away from the group. You pop a two finger salute with one hand and then as you turn away with Eridan on your arm you flip a one finger one over your shoulder. You hear John laughing as you walk off but you are on cloud nine right now and nothing matters.

You chuckles as Eridan pushes you out of the theater and he gets more insistent once outside until you are both in your truck. Pushed up against the hot metal you swallow a moan as he attacks your mouth with his own. Reluctantly you push his shoulders back and you go, “If we are about to actually have sex with each other I would really appreciate it if you could put your horses in check until we get our asses home Eridan. I have been waiting to get into your pants and ascend to the next glorious level of our magical romance for months now. So let’s get to my apartment and introduce my bed to our soon to be endless fucking.”

“You think you knoww the meanin’ of the wword endless?” Eridan purrs, his eyes burning and his dark lips turn into the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. He pushes up against you, growling as he does.

“Home.” You insist, though speaking is probably the hardest thing for you to do, “Bed.”

He groans and kisses you again. His cold tongue goes down your throat and you get a handful of hair and slowly, achingly pull his mouth away. “Please,” you whisper.

Groaning, Eridan nods. “Fine, fine. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The next twenty five minutes are the longest you have ever lived through.

…………………………………………………

From car to apartment, your world is a blur of grey hands and dark lips and needy, breath stealing kisses and burning, penetrating glances. Eridan pushes you against the door of your apartment and you’re half convinced he wants to just eat you because half his kissing is just him biting at your lips. Somehow you have enough of a mind to shove the key into the lock of your apartment and twist it open. The two of you stumble into your apartment and it’s only your arm around his waist that keeps you upright entirely.

Then is the backwards dance from door that was maybe kicked shut- or maybe left open who the fuck even _cares?-_ to your bed. You run into another door, pop it open and then the next thing you know the back of your knees hit your mattress and a pair of solid hands push you back. You bounce a bit and then push yourself up onto your elbows.

You are considering a lunge at him for more entangling kisses but the look on his face stops you dead. Sucking in a long, deep breath, you calm yourself in seconds.

Eridan stands in front of you with this _look_. The lust is still burning in his eyes and you can see the curve of _something_ in the front of his pants but there is something else. You meet his gaze and you see everything he wants you to see- and then some.

You’re desperate to touch him, taste him, feel him against you but you aren’t so desperate as to not what he wants. Every line, every glance tells you he wants it to be special. This is your first time with him. This is the goal you have been striving to for weeks, months even. You are the hero of fucking time and the Triforce is right in front of you. Have a little patience, you tell yourself, make this an experience that is _worth_ the wait.

Eridan’s hands shake slightly as he slowly pulls his scarf from around his neck. The blue cloth slides smoothly from his shoulders and he lets it drop to the ground in a small pile. The shaking is mostly gone from his fingers as he lifts up his shirt. You let out an appreciative, soft sound, and lick your lips. For all his weird techy-ness and lounging around he has such a fucking _nice_ body. He eats less than you do, some nonsense about slow metabolism and whatever but he has more meat on his bones.

His rings flash at you when he draws his fingertips over his jagged scar. You tense, wanting to sit up and kiss the mark. It’s almost instinctive now, a way you show him that his past is his past and you don’t care about the scars he bears- in fact you like them. But the look on his face isn’t sad and thoughtful as he taps his claws over the serrated mark. He’s watching you watch him with his bottom lip caught by his teeth and so you smirk at him.

You drop your eyes back down to his hips and watch as his fingers slide the button through the hole. You are riveted to the sight of his graceful fingers pulling back the cloth, unzipping it slowly and, with thumbs tucked behind, pulling it down, rolling the cloth back like a soft layer of purple skin and _fuck_.

Eridan’s tentabulge is already out of its protective bone sheath thing, rising away from his hips, and coiling slightly in the cool air of your apartment. It’s flushed violet purple, and from the slight slit in the top, there drips purple bright as his blood and glistening. His hands push his pants down to just beneath the base of the bulge and you distantly hear his voice whispering, “This is wwhat you wwanted to see,” a hesitant pause and then, “Right?”

Sitting up slowly, you glance up once to his face- eager and wanting but there is fear in his eyes- and you reach up. You slide your shades from your face and gently toss them out of the way off your bed. Eridan stands still as you slide one hand over his hip, your fingertips brushing his scar and curling around his hipbone to keep him in place. You touch his bulge with your other hand, sliding up from the base and shivering as you feel him move under your hand. Touching him like this you can feel the slight ridges he has on his bulge.

Thinking, for some stupid reason, that he would have fins or something on the bulge, the ridges are a nice surprise. You are going to enjoy those when you get around to it. He gives a little gasp as you wrap your fingers around the tip and gently squeeze. Looking up at him, you lean in your head and murmur, “Absolutely fucking right.”

You press your tongue against him, licking up slowly. The motion draws out a loud moan from him. You latch your mouth onto the side and suck while your fingers keep rubbing him and he lets out a strangled cry. These are sounds you have been dying to hear from him. You want nothing more than to immerse yourself in his cool, salty, solid being to surround yourself in grey and purple but you have to pace yourself. This is the beginning. You two have plenty of time.

Pulling your mouth back, you lick your lips and say with a smirk, “First one with his pants off wins.”

He laughs despite himself and you pull your hands away. He wriggles out of his pants while you push yourself up enough and arch. You shuck off your pants and boxers in one motion and for good measure tear off your shirt and throw it to the side. By that time he’s kneeling on the bed, pants peeled away, and pushing you back with hands on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t evven bother racin’ you,” he whispers, eyes bright as he leans in to kiss you, “You alwways are the fuckin’ fastest.”

You laugh and pull him down for a kiss. His whole body is open to your touching now and the first thing your hands go for is his ass. You grope and pull him down against you, shivering when you feel his moving bulge pressing against your cock, slick and cool and fucking amazing.

He kisses along your neck and your shoulder and you grind him down against you. He looks at you with those violet eyes of his, warm and brilliant, and whispers into your ear. “So, wwinner, wwhat is your prize?”

Your hands slide farther down without you even thinking about it and you delight in the shudder he gives as you press your fingers over his nook. “The Knight claims the Prince as his prize.”

Eridan laughs and shift his knees a little higher. “Impress me, Knight.”

Dragging him down for a deep kiss, you suck his tongue into your mouth in the same motion as you slide your fingers into his nook. He gives this deep groan that vibrates right through you and you laugh up into his mouth. A push of your hands against his ass, against his nook, and soon he’s high enough on your hips that when he grinds down against you his bulge writhes on your stomach and his nook pushes against your cock.

You groan a curse and Eridan rolls his head back as he pushes against you. He’s cool against you, and you can feel him already becoming slick. For half a second you think _oh fuck what about a condom_ and then Eridan is reaching a hand down and is guiding you inside and you don’t care about anything else.

The highest in the hemospectrum thing you’ve ever gotten was this one navy blooded chick you found. She was chilly but Eridan is a good deal cooler inside than she could have ever hoped to be. You would almost complain, almost, but you yourself feel so damn hot that if your temperature rose any more you’d combust. Arching your hips up into him, pulling his arms around you, kissing and embracing him is like submerging yourself into a cool ocean wave when your body is scorching hot from inside out. He cools you, soothes you, and yet, fucking _hell_ he excites you like none other.

Your hips move up, his move down and the two of you find this rolling rhythm between too much and not enough and all perfection. When his mouth gets too far away, you wrap a hand around his horn and tug him down. When he bites your lips, your neck, your shoulder, you jerk your hips harder up against him. When you lick over his fins and grip a handful of his ass, he clenches around you.

The two of you roll, with his legs spread wide on either side of you and him bracing himself up on his elbows to keep his horns from digging into the mattress. You like this angle better, being more able to drive down into him, to make him cry out in pleasure. He can drag one hand through your hair while the other twists in your sheets. You get one glance down, between bites and kisses, and laugh as you see the smear of purple from his bulge on his grey skin, on your pale skin, and dripping down around between you both.

You suck a hard mark on the bone of his collarbone and curl your fingers around his bulge. You stroke him, your hand moving quickly over the slick organ. The ridges on his bulge are firmer now, in fact the whole thing is near-stiff from his blood. You tease with your fingers as you fuck him right into the mattress.

He does a desperate grab for a pillow, stuffs it under his head for support, to free both his hands. He wraps his arms around your neck and rocks back against you as you thrust down into him. A litany pours from his throat, half in Alternian, and the half that isn’t being your name over and over again.

You grin against his neck and snap your hips against him. He screams your name.

You do it again and he digs his claws in, clenching around you. This time he screams in Alternian.

You lick up the middle of his neck. You thrust, you squeeze, you bite. He whimpers deep in his throat. It’s a sound that’s weaker, unlike the others he’s given. You pause, half a second, and he gasps out first in one language and then in English, “Close, oh Davve!”

His nails drag across your shoulder blades and you push down and you grind against him. Your fingers squeeze around his bulge, moving back and forth over the ridges and around them like you’re trying to rub the vinyl of a record. Eridan arches and tenses. You can feel his pulse under your lips on his neck, under your fingers on his bulge, and surrounding your cock from his nook as he clenches and he climaxes.

It surges out of him, over his stomach and your hand and the pathetic whimper he gives, with his dilated eyes and mouth open wide, the whimper that is _your name,_ is all that it takes for you to go tumbling over the edge of pleasure. You shake against him, pressed down against him as you come. He gasps out some phrase and automatically translates it over to English, softly, “You’re so fuckin’ _hot_ , fuckin hell.”

After you get your breath, resting against his chest, with your hands tucked lightly around his hips, you chuckle. “I know I am.”

He slaps gently at your shoulders and when he growls it vibrates from his chest to yours, “I meant your genetic fluids, it’s fuckin’ hot like the actual temperature.”

You laugh again, feeling the sensation bubble out of you without much control of it. Why shouldn’t you laugh? Why shouldn’t you be happy? You have your boyfriend out of his pants, naked on your bed and he’s giving you soft kisses into your hair! You slowly push yourself up, just enough to kiss him on the mouth.

Eridan kisses back, slowly and gently and then, when you pull back, he slides a hand to cup your cheek and he whispers, “Davve, I lovve you too.”

Opening your mouth to speak you go silent because he puts his thumb over your lips to indicate he isn’t finished. You close your mouth and nod slightly. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. “I wwas afraid, before. Afraid that I wwas fallin’ in lovve wwith someone wwho wwas ashamed of bein’ wwith me. Afraid that I wwas gettin’ commited to someone wwho wwould wwouldn’t wwant me anymore after wwe had sex.” He closes his eyes and adds in a small, tiny voice, “That evven after all this time, after all you’vve done to make me happy that the vviewws of the others wwe both knoww wwould prevvent us from bein’ anythin’ more.”

You lean down, and even with his thumb in the way you try to kiss him again. His hand moves away and you kiss his lips and his cheeks and you press your forehead against his, “I won’t lie. I was hiding you away. Avoiding them and keeping you secret, but it wasn’t because I was _ashamed_ of you. It was because I saw what they did to you,” He opens his eyes, looking at you in confusion, “I saw how you were before, like how you looked when you saw me in the theater standing with them. You were dull, broken, and I don’t want you like that. I like you like this, sharp and breathtaking and so fucking stupid sometimes.”

The silence that settles around you while he considers your words is comfortable in a way that silence should be between two people. He gives a little smile and mutters, “It wwas Kar’s idea to do it in public. I think he got it out of a romcom.”

You roll your eyes and peck his lips, “He gets a lot of things from romcoms, believe me, John loves to talk.” He chuckles and you start pulling away. As much as you have been looking forward to violet on everything, it’s starting to get colder than you’d like.

However, Eridan has other ideas. He rolls with you, pulling you against his chest as you both lay on your sides. “Davvey,” he mumbles against your neck, using the nickname that you would cut anyone else’s tongue out for saying, “Can wwe just stay like this a little longer. Please?”

You drape an arm around his shoulders and sigh, softly, closing your eyes. “Sure.” You don’t really mind staying a bit longer in his arms.

You are Dave Strider. You have defeated the purple puzzle pants, claimed the Prince as your own and wear the Triforce proudly on your-- Oh wait, not yet.

Shuffling a bit, you pull down one of his hands. He blinks at you curiously as you examine his rings. You slide off your favorite one of his collection, a cheap as fuck ring that looks like solid gold and has this gaudy purple glass heart with fake diamonds around it. You slide it off his right middle finger and put it on your own. The look he gives you as you waggle your fingers and smirk is so bright you tease him that he looks like he’s swallowed a sun.

He covers you in a flurry of kisses in retort.

You are Dave Strider, hero of time, and you wear the Triforce of your Prince proudly on your hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guess what chapter got fanart! That's right! the last one!  
> Take a quick look, btw its [NSFW!](http://ayanasnsfw.tumblr.com/post/23962206138/ayanasartstuff-and-you-know-you-know-because)
> 
> You saw that pretty picture up there? That was the inspiration for pretty much the whole ending we have here. It's used with the artist's permission and the original picture is [HERE](http://kinomatika.tumblr.com/post/22169349868). Don't ask me why the bits look differently, it don't matter, its all Eridan's bits. Just be happy with that.


End file.
